Like Father Like Daughter
by Dreamer1985
Summary: Jenny's friend goes home with her and sees just how much Jenny mirrors her stefather Dr. Early. Jenny's my OC.


Like Father Like Daughter

I do not own the copyrights to EMERGENCY ONE

NOTE: Jenny is my OC, one mentioned in my one shot _**Paying**_** Respects** , also thanks to my beta reader, and my daughter, for going over the story. All mistakes are still my own.

The corridor leading to my father's apartment is quiet or would be if Trisha would shut her trap. "So, you see…" Her voice yaks on about boys, dances, and something about an ornery boss. Okay, okay, I admit most of her talk is tuned out as she never says anything new.

"Jenny, are you even listening?" Trisha slaps my upper arm when I don't answer. Her eyes narrow so much I consider pulling out the pen in my pocket in order to draw feathers on each side of her face and then telling my friend she now has the ability to see through arrows; I don't.

"Partly?" I slightly lift my own eyes totally unrepentant, and she knows it.

"Man, I sure hope your stepfather can handle your mood today." My friend quickly gets told Joe Early is my dad, and if anyone ever says anything different I'm going to knock their block off.

"Sorry. Either way, you'd best watch your mouth or he might send you packing." She shifts her back on her shoulder as she speaks.

"No, he won't. He'll just offer to surgically remove my mouth." Trisha is not impressed. "Hey, Dad…" I speak as I open up his apartment's door. "…what kind of poison did you put in the food today?"

"Arsenic." His answer, said with a very straight face, about sends Trisha out the door. I can't help it; I crack up laughing over her face which at this point resembles a white bed sheet more than anything else.

"Ha ha ha, very funny." Trisha goes and sits down on the leather couch.

"So, where's Mom?" I ask as I plop down on his white loveseat and start to munch.

"Teaching music, where else?" Dad turns around and starts to play a jazz tune I don't recognize, but I tap my feet along nonetheless. Trisha, who has decided to be courageous, sits down.

"So, anyone else come in needing spells lifted?" I chuckle as Trisha's mouth pulls back and her eyes shoot between me and Dad.

"Ya, but this time it wasn't a arm that couldn't be moved." Dad speaks over his shoulder.

"So, what was it?" I ask as the air conditioner kicks on in the one bedroom apartment.

"A dear departed mother who wouldn't leave her son alone and was causing his fingers to twitch." I roll my eyes and, from the way Trisha shifts in her seat, I think the gal is rethinking her decision to stay. "So…" He stops playing and turns around to face me, "…how did your algebra class go?"

"Fine as far as I'm concerned, but Professor Samuels wasn't impressed when he asked for my answer to his sample problem." My mouth twitches upward; Dad sees my eyes start to twinkle.

"And that would be?" Pretending to be clueless as to what my answer would have been.

"Uh…" I grin sheepishly, "…that Willie Nelson had lost the bus and Waylon Jennings had lost the beat." He roars with laughter knowing me well enough to realize that meant a bunch of 0's and 8' s had been on one side of the equation while two, four, six, and twelve had been on the other side. Of course, they'd not been in proper order.

"And her actions in biology weren't any better. She shouldn't have been playing with a dead fish." Trisha scowled, that got my Dad real curious as to what my friend was talking about.

"Hey, I was just obliging Kelly Olson." I sat up while flicking my hand upward as if brushing off the accusation.

"And you did that how?" Dad did his share of finger waving, though his eyes betrayed him...again.

"She said she'd never seen a fish swim, so..." I winked, "I showed her. Professor Francis wasn't anymore impressed than Samuels was." My Dad just shooke his head at the same time he was offering to get me a few samples of body parts for my anatomy class.

My mother walking in the door ends our conversation ended due to the fact her feet are dragging, and I think bed would be the best place for her.

"Talk to you later, Dad." I stand up and give him a hug. "You too, Mom." I kiss her cheek and Trisha and I leave.

"Forget like mother like daughter or father like son," Trisha speaks with her hands flying out, "it's more like father like daughter." We go back to class, with me spouting off some crazy, but strangely, believable answer. One, for the record, the professor is actually stupid enough to buy. Yup, I am my father's daughter.


End file.
